


Do Not Collect $200

by Kittycattycat



Series: Monopoly Money [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Begging, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Embarrassment, Emotions, French Kissing, Frottage, Grinding, Groping, Guilt, Imagination, Incest, Kissing, Lemme just start out with, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Ok now that that’s out of the way, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Remus being Remus, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Sibling Incest, Surprise Kissing, Swearing, Teasing, This fic changes tone like 3 times and I’m not sorry, Verbal Humiliation, and I mean MILDLY bc both have a very clear out, but it’s very clear that’s what’s taking place, in a roundabout sense, just a tad, more or less anyhow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittycattycat/pseuds/Kittycattycat
Summary: When Remus had cornered him in the hallway, his mouth had tasted of bile and copper. It made Roman want to retch— still did— and yet the allure Roman experienced towards the entire debacle was undeniable.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Series: Monopoly Money [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871410
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Do Not Collect $200

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cornered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949345) by [DilynAliceBlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake). 



> A sequel to my last RemRom fic made over a year ago, “Do Not Pass ‘Go.’” I was the first person in the RemRom tag, a feat which I am semi-justly proud about, and decided I would contribute once more.
> 
> This was originally written for the one year anniversary of Remus’ introduction, but is now being posted for shits, giggles, and various other funny internet ha-has.

Though he lived and breathed the bawdy excesses of 17th and 18th century Europe, Roman’s realm tended to not be too historically accurate. He tried to add in little glimmers of veracity, but he knew that a purely historical society would most likely seem too plain. He needed something more, something beyond the blandness of mainstream historical content. There was certainly period-typical detailing, with fancy architecture abound and a certain fantastical aura that wafted through the air like the smell of fresh bread in the springtime, but the society itself tended to favor personal grandiose aesthetics and Roman’s own brand of creative liberties over most solidified truths. 

Remus, however, prided himself on the deep-seeded accuracies of his side of the Imagination. Every dark corner of history, every forgotten horror, every proscribed practice lost to the passage of time— it was all there. And unlike most of Remus’ creations and their outwardly horrifying nature, within his kingdom, the devil was truly in the details, it’s lifelike realism discomforting even the most sturdy of folks with a morbid sort of glee.

All that to say, Roman shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to find incest within the scope of his brother’s imaginative world.

———

As he’d overheard, the Lady and Lord had been wed some time ago. Their father cared not for the relationship, but was ultimately powerless to stop the union from forming. So brother and sister were married within the town church, onlookers giving cheers and drinking dark wine from heavy goblets in ebullience. 

Roman watched them carefully. They looked so happy together, hands intertwined as they padded gently across an old wooden bridge, sharing delicate kisses under the sun’s gentle radiance. They were the perfect couple, and if you did not know them you would never even begin to suspect that they were… were…

Roman felt itchy and hot, his clothes suddenly confining while his breaths were sharp and shallow. He forced his eyes to look away, his own gaze seeming shameful in the moment. 

He recalled the warmth of another’s lips pressed wetly against his own, remembered phantom sensations of Remus’ mustache ghosting his face as his own brother had kissed him with such purpose, and as he glanced between the couple and the ground beneath him he began to wonder if Remus had really gone that far just for the ‘fun’ of it all or if he had honestly intended to show Roman that he…

Oh no.

———

Roman retired early that night, just before dinner.

Patton cast him a worried look. Roman glanced away and paid it no mind. He knew food would do nothing to quell the sickness in his stomach.

———

Very quickly, Roman found that he couldn’t sleep. He’d wrapped himself in blankets before throwing the majority of them off, surrounded himself with pleasantly-scented candles before snuffing them out with his thumb and forefinger, rolled and laid in every possible position underneath his sheets— nothing worked.

And then, he began thinking of Remus once more.

(He was lying. He had never stopped to begin with.)

When Remus had cornered him in the hallway, his mouth had tasted of bile and copper. It made Roman want to retch— still did— and yet the allure Roman experienced towards the entire debacle was undeniable. Despite the unpleasant taste, the sensation was incredible. His brother’s lips were thin, and they were hot to the touch, like every other part of him always had been. Like his body was catching fire from the inside out, desperate to escape and destroy anything and anyone in its path.

Roman felt uneasy at how naturally the comparison came.

At that moment, pressed to the wall and struggling against an unwanted advancement, Roman was disgusted. Revolted. Ashamed. And again, he certainly still was.

But something was different.

The kiss, Roman decided, was certainly premeditated. Remus planned it. Or at least was fully grounded in reality enough in the moment to make decisions on purpose instead of on impulse as per his usual.

But why?

Roman didn’t have a clue.

———

He should have known from the start that attempts at sleep would be useless. His thoughts continued running well into his state of mental weariness. 

Roman’s first bout of struggling against Remus’ advances was genuine, a reflexive and somewhat fearful reaction brought on by surprise and shock. The second attempt… not so much. If Roman was honest with himself, and he so rarely was these days, the rest of the struggle was majorly performative. 

Roman rolled onto his back and pulled the sheet up to his forehead despite the heat pounding throughout his body.

Even in the privacy of his own mind he could hardly admit it, but Roman had wanted it. The contact, the affection. Maybe even from Remus specifically. Perhaps Remus had felt his pining, had known all along that this was what Roman really wanted from him. Maybe he knew. 

In a sense, Roman almost regretted pushing Remus away during the kiss. But the surprise coupled alongside the guilt and mild disgust created a whirlwind of emotions he still had no idea how to unpack. His mind never would have allowed for him to kiss back in the moment, and he knew that perfectly well, but what if he had?

Roman imagined giving himself over, kissing his brother back fervently and running his fingers through the split-ended curls at the base of Remus’ skull.

Remus would be a sloppy kisser, he imagined, if given a proper chance. It was in his nature to lack understanding of patience or of delayed gratification; this would culminate in the kissing being mostly clashing teeth and saliva drooling down both their chins. Remus would probably fight for dominance, canines tearing into Roman’s lips and tongue. They would both taste the blood but wouldn’t want to stop. Eventually though Remus would pull away for breath, Roman’s blood smeared across his teeth as he grinned lecherously.

Roman shivered, even under the now smothering warmth of his sheets, because christ almighty wasn’t that a fucking thought.

———

The nighttime came and went. Roman eventually drifted off into an unsatisfactory sleep, dreaming of passion-filled kisses and the fast, harsh slamming of a cock against his prostate, and woke up in the morning significantly stickier than he had been the night before. He took a cold shower while cleaning up just for good measure before suiting up in his standard attire. It was early enough that most of the famILY were still asleep, but early enough that Patton was in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone. 

Not particularly in the mood for participating in small-talk or exchanging insults with any of the others, and still feeling put-off from all the thoughts of his brother the night prior, Roman decided to do what he always did when there was a problem he didn’t want to confront: fight something.

The Dragonwitch, however, felt too large for today— too massive an undertaking for Roman alone in the mood he was in. He settled for slaying a few goblins to return a somewhat large sum of money to a local high-class family.

In the privacy of the Imagination, Roman could do anything he wanted. No one could worm their way into his side of the realm without his knowledge, and no one could tell him how he should or shouldn’t feel or how to cope. Unlike his own mind, the Imagination was a safe space. 

———

As he finished his quest and wandered aimlessly through the thick woods, a strange unwinding sensation made itself known at Roman’s core, and he was nearly confused until it dawned on him: the part of the forest where they currently resided was Roman’s, yes, but it was also Remus’. Remus could appear at random and take control from him, if he were here— and in an instant, the scenery around them changed as Remus stepped out into the open and did just that. 

Instead of a lush forest, the two siblings now resided in a large, stone room. The interior was blank apart from a few ominous metal chains strewn about and a thin, dirty mattress lying in one corner. The entire room was damp, and cold, and dark. A particularly cliché prisoner’s tower. Usually there would at least be bones or a decaying carcass of some sort. Perhaps Remus was feeling off his game as well.

“Why are you here?” Roman asked, eyebrows furrowing. He hadn’t seen Remus at all since their encounter in the hallway. His brother’s actions were always unpredictable, and often incomprehensible, but because of that kiss Roman found himself fearing the other’s next move even more so. He tightened the grip he held on his sword.

Remus scoffed and made a dismissive hand motion. There was a spattering of drying blood on his knuckles. “I could ask you the same thing! You’re like, basically oh my turf at this point. You never come near the boundary. Ever.”

“I needed something to do to relax my mind,” Roman said, as if that answered anything at all.

“Like what?” and then, “Like fuck?”

Roman sputtered. “No, Remus! I don’t have sex to relieve myself of emotional problems! Good Lord.”

Remus didn’t even bother to answer. He simply grabbed the collar of Roman’s tunic and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together.

Roman saw red. He violently shoved Remus off of him, striking his brother’s head against the wall behind him with a sickening crack in the process. It was happening again. Roman backed himself against the opposite wall, feeling cornered despite the door next to them both. 

“Wait, stop,” Roman pleaded. His hands trembled and tears sat precariously at the corners of his eyes, set to fall, “This… the last time, when you… I-I haven’t been… I can’t.”

Remus’ tongue glided leisurely across the pink of his lips as the man himself continued taking slow and measured steps forward, like predator stalking prey. “I suppose I don’t understand what you mean. As you’ve said before, I’m very stupid, dear brother, so you have to put things in small itty bitty simple words for my tiny ass pea brain! Go on, tell me what you mean!”

Roman swallowed, eyes forcing themselves shut to escape Remus’ intense gaze as the other drew ever closer. “You’ve… you’ve infected my mind with these, these thoughts-“

His sentence was cut short by Remus grinding his thigh against the half-hard bulge in Roman’s trousers he hadn’t known was there. To his horror, Roman felt his cock stir under the ministrations of Remus’ body. When he dared to look again, Roman huffed at the smug grin now plastered onto his counterpart’s face, now just inches from his own.

“Don’t,” Roman swallowed, “don’t mock me, Remus. Don’t you dare, you fiend, you, you c-coward—“

Remus wrapped his around the back of Roman’s neck and canted his body forward. Roman’s breath caught in his throat at the hardness that met his own, clothed cocks rubbing against one another in a way just this side of pain. Roman almost winced at how sheerly Remus it all was.

“Who’s mocking anything?” Remus asked, eyes almost comically wide. “Who would’ve known sweet little good boy Roman, the prodigal child, was a sick fuck who wanted to get it on with his own flesh-n-blood? Maybe all those cute little twinks you fuck in your side of the imagination, mm? Did you ever roleplay with them? Pretend you were sticking your cock into me, fucking my mouth, gagging me?”

Humiliation washed over Roman’s face, deep coloration bleeding from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears. He wasn’t even sure where to begin dissecting all that.

Remus feigned surprise. “Is that a ‘no?’” You didn’t? Unbelievable! I can’t believe you’ve never gotten off to me— why, I’m almost hurt! …Or is it that you haven’t been getting off at all, huh? No huge dildos stuck up your ass, no vibrators, no cock rings, not even an old-fashioned fist around your dick!?”

“I—“ Roman managed before he quickly held his tongue. 

Remus fluttered his lashes and leaned closer, anticipating the rest of Roman’s sentence. Something told him that Remus had no intention of continuing unless Roman was upfront.

This scenario was not a pleasure he wanted to let go of, not like his sexual encounters before, when he had felt wounded from the flat detachment between himself and one partner or another, some conjured prince he had saved or a knight he bedded with ease. As soon as he felt himself with Remus, though, even just on the edges of pleasure, the very sensation was excruciating, and the desperation he felt to ravish the other overcame him.

For Roman, the epitome of passion, the act of touching another person was nigh a necessity. And even if Remus rejected him after this, the crushing loneliness and guilt smothering him, he could at least say it had happened. At least then he could start to sleep again, or use his hands to tease himself, and have some peace.

He gently pushed Remus back, turning his face away and avoided the other’s eyes because he quite frankly couldn’t afford to give himself away like that. “It’s… it has been a while since I’ve been able to, erm… finish,” he admitted haltingly, which wasn’t so much a lie as it was a very careful misconstrusion of the truth; it had indeed been a while since he had been able to masturbate properly. However, the issue was less a lack of time or need and more a lack of the proper headspace, his thoughts drifting back to nights spent jerking his cock hard and fast while hoping to avoid another instance of his brother’s face flashing across his mind, guilt in every stroke because the orgasms were incredible but the shame was always crippling. 

In lieu of a response, Remus yanked him forward and covered Roman’s mouth with his own in a hungry kiss. Roman ran his tongue along the seam of Remus’ lips. Remus obliged, swirling his tongue messily alongside Roman’s. 

Roman’s cock throbbed within the confines of his riding pants. He rutted his pelvis against Remus, who did the same in return and moaned into the kiss.

Remus pulled away for breath, “You’re such a tease!” he growled. Remus grabbed wildly at Roman’s zipper, snarling as his fingers fumbled. Finally, he stuck his hand down the front of Roman’s pants and fished out the other’s cock, running his thumbnail along the underside of the sensitive head. Roman hissed; Remus laughed.

Remus took Roman’s hand and frantically forced it towards his own crotch, “Can’t you pull your own weight for once? Help me!” 

Unlike Remus’ indelicate groping, Roman’s hand made short work of Remus’ pants fastenings, pulling out his throbbing cock. He massaged Remus from tip to base, earning a savage groan. Remus, seemingly having more of an idea on where the encounter was headed than Roman did in the moment, spit into his hand. Roman opened his mouth to complain, but let out a choked moan as Remus grabbed both their cocks together in his warm, slick hand. 

Roman shuddered, ducking his head underneath Remus’ jaw. Roman brushed his lips against the spot before suckling and eventually digging his teeth into the waiting flesh.

“So forceful,” Remus said, lifting his chin so as to allow Roman’s mouth better access to his neck.

Roman glared up at the other. Remus smirked. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Only when there’s a fat cock in my mouth!”

The thought alone sent a bolt of lightning up Roman’s spine, and another moan slipped out unbidden. That was something for another time, though; Roman was already well and gone, too invested in the heated frottage of Remus’ cock against his own, too obsessed with the scent of his brother’s musk invading his nose as he buried his face into the sharp divot of Remus’ collarbone.

Roman thought it surreal, truly, that his hands now intimately knew the rough tangles of Remus’ hair, knew for certain all the scars decorating the other’s body as he trailed his fingertips across them again and again through his clothing— corporeal evidence of the fighting between both outside forces and one another that, in a sense, had brought them to where they were.

Roman bit his lip, struggling to keep quiet, though he doubted it did much good as close as he was to his brother’s ear. He could practically feel Remus’ self-satisfied grin. Both their bodies pressed together, Remus’ hand sliding over both his cock and Roman’s. Their hips jerked against each other, twitching madly. 

Roman gave a long, restrained growl as Remus slowed down in his movements, jacking them off carefully but not loosening his grip on either of their cocks.

Remus breathed out, slow and almost even. “Beg.”

Tension fell across the room like a thick, smothering blanket. “…You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I never am!” Remus agreed, sounding out of breath, “But I do wanna see you on your knees, though. Metaphorically. And literally!”

“Never,” Roman fought, hot sweat beading on his forehead. His brother’s relentless efforts were causing electric shocks of pleasure to jolt up his legs. It was a battle just to stay standing.

There was a pause, and Roman had half a mind to flee.

“Alright,” Remus sniffed, giving in with uncharacteristic ease. “Who am I?”

“Whuh?” Roman muttered. Almost absentmindedly, he found that his entire body was shaking, vision blurred and head heavy. 

Rather than speaking, Remus slowed the movement of his fist down to a crawl. Roman whimpered at the loss of stimulation. He attempted to buck his hips up enough to fuck Remus’ fist himself, but it only caused Remus to loosen his grip. Roman could have sobbed.

“You— ffffuck— you’re… Remus?” 

Remus blew a raspberry at him. Despite all they’d done, Roman grimaced at the spit now flecking his face. “No shit! Try again. Even a dumbass like you can find a better answer!”

Roman licked his lips, trying in vain to will away the cotton in his mouth. “I… Y-Your Grace…?”

Remus inhaled sharply, and Roman felt the other’s cock throb needily against his own. “Mm. File that one away for later, but still wrong— almost as wrong as what we’re doing right now!” Almost as if he could sense it, Remus continued before Roman’s guilt could fade back in again, “If we’re going by rule of threes, and we are because they’re my goddamn rules that I made up just now, this is your final guess! You better get this one right or else you won’t get to come aaaaall over my hand!”

With that statement, something in his mind finally clicked. 

Roman choked. “Brother.”

Remus bared his teeth, hissing and keeping lascivious eye contact with Roman as he tipped over the edge. Roman felt hot cum dribble against his exposed cock, and he knew in that same moment that he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, his impending orgasm building faster than he could take. He jerked his hips upward and pressed Remus’ chest flush against him; gasping, shuddering, knees buckling, and mouth agape, Roman’s eyes shut tightly as he came. “Mmmmhh— fffuck, oh fuck, god, Remus! Fuck! Please please please—!”

Both their hips jerked faster and faster, unable to stop themselves from coming. Roman strained his neck downwards and panted as he watched his cock shoot thick ropes of cum across Remus’ hand and clothing.

While Roman began to catch his breath from witnessing his brother’s orgasm, Remus groaned long and low, sharpened nails scratching pencil-thin lines into Roman’s back through his tunic, finally beginning to wind down, “Yessssssss…”

———

“…Hey,” Remus started, body curled up against Roman’s side and still a touch out of breath. They’re in their shared bedroom now, passively cuddling atop Roman’s bed sheets because Roman complained far too much about the texture of Remus’. The compromise meant, though, that while Roman wore boxers, Remus was allowed to sleep in the nude as he much preferred. Tit for tat, not that Roman minded too much to begin with. “How long have you thought about fucking me?”

“I don’t remember,” Roman lied as he allowed Remus to lazily suck a darkening hickey onto his exposed collarbone, “Not that long.”

“Quit lying, dear brother, or else you’ll summon Jan!” Remus laughed shrilly, then gave pause, “…Are you trying to summon Janus? ‘Cause if you wanted a threesome, I’ll need some time to get it up again but all you had to do was ask!”

Roman winced at the use of the other side’s name, at the very idea of being seen looking the way he did, “No! I—“

“He’s got two cocks, you know! Plenty to go around! We can share!”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “Wh… How do you know that!?”

“Swimming pool accident,” Remus replied plainly. Roman didn’t know what to make of that, was fairly certain he didn’t even want to know.

He sighed. “No, Remus, I… I don’t have any interest in Janus.” 

“Well, that’s a shame, but it’s probably for the best.” Roman was startled out of his mental haze by Remus grabbing both his arms and pulling his body closer, his brother’s hot tongue licking along the shell of his ear. “Now I get you all to myself!”

Roman sighed through his nose, decided he didn’t have it in him to make a fuss, and fell closer into Remus’ embrace.

“You never did answer my question, you know,” Remus murmured, voice lowering, “about how long you’ve wanted to fuck me into the dirt until I’m nothing but a cumrag for you to use.”

Roman groaned. “Quit it. I’m too tired for a round two. And I… I assumed it would be the other way around, to be honest.”

Remus bit his own lower lip, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. “Damn, Ro, you want your bro’s big-ass cock drilling you into next Tuesday? That can certainly be arranged— ooh, maybe with a tentacle or eight, too! But, you’re still dodging the goddamn question.”

There was a tense moment. Roman remained silent. Remus cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“…When you kissed me in the hall,” Roman finally admitted. “I mean, I’d… I’d consider it before that, but. I first started wanting you, really wanting you, when I saw you there. I was disgusted, and I pushed you away, but I wanted you. I want to kiss you and pull you against me and hold you while you stuffed your cock into me and never let you go and— and I— oh, Remus, I—… I wanted you so badly.” 

The end of his rambling had fallen flat on his tongue, words losing their meaning as he in turn lost himself in the mental sensation of reliving the moment. Still, Roman gritted his teeth as humiliation flooded his veins. He’d said too much. When after all they’d just done, he had still managed to go too far. Remus would laugh and leave him and tell everyone, Logan and Patton and Virgil and Janus and Thomas and then Roman would lose everyone he’d ever known because he didn’t know how to stop being such a fucking freak, pining for the romantic affection of his own sibling.

Remus’ eyebrows were just about touching his hairline now. “…Wanted me,“ he finally parroted. “You wanted me.” 

Roman would think it to be mockery if it weren’t for the expression on the other’s face, somewhere between bemusement and abject horror. And, for the first time he had ever bore witness to, Remus looked frightened. Afraid to believe what Roman had already confirmed. Afraid to understand what it meant. Remus shook, eyes darting wildly,

“Remus, please—”

“You thought about fucking me then?” he asked, as if the tension were never there. And if Remus was up for a game of pretend, then Roman was right there with him. “In the middle of the hallway, right where anybody could see us? You wanted to pin me to the wall and fuck me? Ha! And you call me a degenerate!”

Roman just shook his head and huffed playfully, like this was any other conversation with any other person happening at any other goddamn place in the entire world. “Be quiet already.”

“Yanno, I don’t think I will.”

Roman shifts around to get a better angle on Remus before shutting him up with his mouth.

Remus tastes exactly as he’d remembered: like bile, and like copper. It was foul. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.


End file.
